I heard this Foreigner song on the radio the other day. Takes me back to high school, on the sports bus on our way home from a wrestling meet. Todd and I might have been sitting together snuggling in the darkened bus, the rumbling white noise of the engine, surrounded by hushed voices and the occasional burst of laughter, stealing moments only teenagers can really relish. Sixteen and seventeen years old, a lifetime ahead of us and so much we could never imagine.

Even if you know this song, even if you’re not of a certain age – listen to it anyway. There is so much emotion in it – like a crushing ache within – it will move you. I made a point to pull it up at home on YouTube so I could listen again and it must’ve been another one of those Fridays because I was alone and got to thinking about the trajectory of my life.

I started thinking about all the boys I’ve known after Todd. The ones who were good friends, the ones who used me, the ones who couldn’t commit, the ones who cared but not quite enough, the ones I cared about but not quite enough and, finally, the one who broke me. And then I thought about how my daughter told me, in our last phone conversation over a year ago now – in so many words – that she couldn’t have a relationship with me if I was still married to Todd.

Nothing short of extortion. My son never said such things, but oh was it implied by how we left it all. At the time, I laughed it off. Such a ridiculous condition for a relationship with your flesh and blood! The one you birthed and loved and held and nurtured and did absolutely no harm to – making such demands.

How dare they! HOW DARE THEY. Today, with nothing but my own thoughts and some very real memories of my “other” life, how – dare – they, indeed. Would they rather I’d stayed in a marriage with their father, who verbally abused me day after day, destroyed property and personal belongings and, put his hands on me?

That they could even suggest that I should leave a happy life with a man who has loved me almost all of our lives, who treats me as an equal and as someone to be revered, respected, accepts me with all my flaws and – ahem – baggage, who opened his heart to my children so that they could break it as easily as they’ve broken mine…who the ever loving fuck do they think they are?

They would rather me be alone than be loved, cared for, appreciated for who I am, and have financial security. Or maybe they’d have preferred me to still be mopping floors and serving up glasses of water and sandwiches to a man in bed screaming at me to get him this and get him that, isolating me from others when he was home, belittling me for having opinions, making fun of people, criticizing my cooking, hating on my parents, and making me pay dearly for every family gathering I wanted to have. Maybe they, too, would have learned to call me a stupid bitch and tell me to “shut [my] pie hole.” Maybe they, too, would have learned that it’s normal for someone to punch you in the mouth when you argue with them.

They have no idea that 13 years ago I saved my life. And theirs. Because today I know with my soul that one of the adults in that house wouldn’t have survived, and truly – I don’t know which one. Make no mistake, I have chosen to leave it where it belongs – in the past. I started and stopped a memoir of those days so many times over as many years and it’s just too painful to go there anymore.

The moral of the story is this: my children should be happy – as my parents who have known me my whole life are – that I have a life partner who makes my life so good. I have a great life. I am blessed. I’ve always been blessed. Even in the darkest days – there was a lesson for me and a growth of character that led me here. I take very little for granted. My parents don’t have to worry about me. As a parent, I want nothing more than for my kids to have this kind of love and a life that they will one day reflect on with gratitude.

They’re not bad people, my children. After all – it was I who raised them with values and compassion and intense love. They’ve been abused and manipulated by someone they trust and love, and they aren’t able to see the forest for the trees. The truth is in there, somewhere, and I pray every day that distance and time will lead them to it. (I pray for other things too, but God reminds me to stay in my lane. LOL.)

So, life goes on.